


Ty Ne Odinokiy

by some1else98



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chapter Specific Content Warnings in Chapter Notes, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Trauma, admission of feelings, it's big sad gay feelings hour y'all, mentions of torture, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some1else98/pseuds/some1else98
Summary: Hank wants to celebrate the completion of his men's training...with Barry..alone. But much to his chagrin, it doesn't go quite as well as he had hoped. (Until it does.)
Relationships: Barry Berkman/NoHo Hank
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is my first (actual) fic so I hope you like it!! I just love HBO's Barry endlessly and thought it would be cute to write a lil Barry/Hank nonsense.. I honestly did intend for this to be light and fluffy but somehow it got sad, so just a fair warning for memories of homophobic incidents. It'll get fluffy eventually. I plan on a couple chapters if thats what y'all are interested in!! Already have chapter 2 started! ☺️
> 
> Also, I'm literally writing this as I go along and I'm trying to change and adjust things as necessary so everything adds up but please! if you catch a plot hole or something that doesn't make sense let me know and I'll fix it asap!!! 
> 
> The title means "you are not alone" in Russian and it's a line from this song (I changed it from odinokaya to odinokiy because odinokaya is feminine whereas odinokiy is masculine):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpcKKxxgfqk
> 
> ok enough from me, enjoy <3

“Oh, it means, um, the debt has been paid,” Hank said as Barry took the pin and examined it with idle fingers, “you owe me nothing. And uh, the slate is clean, right?” Barry nodded and gave Hank an awkward smile. The two men shook hands. Hank continued, “and just because we’re not working together anymore- “  
Suddenly Khazam and his accordion butted in, clearly not finished with their performance from earlier. Hank spun around. 

“Are you fucking serious?? Are you fucking kidding me right now?? You just fucked this moment, this beautiful tender moment with your accordion. You just whipped out your accordion and you fucked it, man. God!” He apologized, turning back to Barry, “hey, I’m so sorry, about that.”

Barry shrugged it off, “it’s alright.” 

“Um, where was I…it’s gone, it’s gone. Yeah. Gone. Whatever. Barry! Say we go out to diner, hm? Finish this celebration without party poopers.”

\--

Barry didn’t know why he agreed, considering how he found everything about the funky little man fundamentally irritating, yet he couldn’t help but admit to himself that, okay, maybe there was something about Hank that was actually kind of...endearing. He frowned, stirring his coffee as the waitress brought Hank his chocolate milkshake with a cherry and extra whipped cream. He couldn’t help but notice how Hank seemed tense. If Barry didn’t know any better, he would say Hank was…anxious. He found it odd. Hank was such a chill, go with the flow kinda guy. Barry had seen Hank maintain complete composure in all sorts of extremely tense, stressful, and even life-threatening situations. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what could possibly rattle him like this. He pushed the observation to the back of his mind and took a sip of his drink. 

Hank was the first one to speak, plucking the cherry out of the hoard of whipped cream and taking it between his teeth. He fidgeted with the stem. “Barry, you are super great guy. I can’t thank you enough for training my guys. I really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, man, don’t worry about it,” Barry shrugged.

Hank reached out and took Barry’s hands in his. His heart was pounding in his chest. He was petrified. Barry froze, looking down at their joined hands, then back up at Hank, mouth agape and mind overflowing with questions, but Hank responded before the other could get any words out.

“I mean it. I really appreciate it. And, um, I really appreciate all the time we spend together…”

“Hank, what are y-“ 

Hank took a deep breath. Better to just rip the bandaid right off. “Barry, I will be honest. I have had….crush on you since you first came to LA.” His voice was quiet, and he was avoiding eye contact, but suddenly he found himself unable to stop talking. “I don’t think you are evil guy. I think you’re good guy stuck in bad situation. Sometimes people can find themselves in situations that bring out their darkness, even if they don’t want. And I think that is what happened to you. I followed you to acting class one day and saw you perform. And I could see how happy it made you. I think you have real talent for something outside of killing. You deserve to have happiness in your life, Barry. You are not evil.”

Barry just stared at him, mouth open in shock and brain running a mile a minute. Hank swallowed thickly, slowly retracting his hands and fidgeted them in his lap. Eventually Barry took a deep breath and sighed. Hank looked up from his lap, watching in dismay as the other man pinched the bridge of his nose and mutters “man, just, why did you have to tell me that.” Hank felt his heart shatter. Tears threatened to fall as he cleared his throat. He never cries. He hasn’t cried in years. He hasn’t cried since…

He jumped up from his seat suddenly and tossed a 10-dollar bill onto the tabletop, mumbling something about being late for a logistics meeting regarding the coup to overtake the Esther and her crew. He was out the door before Barry could say anything else. Barry sat there, alone with his thoughts, trying to process exactly what the fuck had just happened. He rubbed his eyes and dragged his hands down his face before taking another sip of coffee. He hadn’t intended to hurt Hank like that. He was just so taken aback by the confession that came seemingly out of nowhere. It did explain a lot about Hank’s behavior towards him, though. 

The guilt Barry found himself feeling on the drive home was… debilitating. He wanted to call Hank and explain but figured maybe it was best to give him some space for a while. The more Barry thought, the more he realized that maybe he was, in fact, a little fond of the man, that maybe he was aggressive towards him in order to be professional and to keep up appearances (except for the time Hank brought the lipstick cam to Ryan’s hit. That was just fucking stupid.)… Barry hadn’t had feelings for a guy since junior year of high school. He had to take that part of himself and squash it down and store it away in the part of his brain the Forbidden Feelings go. He had almost forgotten. Almost forgotten the way his dad beat him when he caught his son holding hands with another boy. Almost forgotten how his mom threatened to send him to conversion therapy. Almost forgotten how his dad made him enroll in the Marines so he could “become a real man.” When Barry finally snapped out of his rabbit hole, he realized he had driven all the way home. It was only late afternoon, the sun was still shining, but he felt shitty enough to call it a day. He fixed himself a slice of cold day-old pizza for dinner, took a shower, and buried himself as deep in his blankets and pillows as he could. Finally comfy, he curled up with his favorite book and read until he dozed off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! This one is a bit longer and a bit darker so content warning for homophobia related violence, mentions of torture, panic attacks.  
> There's also a bit of (transliterated) Russian in here. Translations will be in the end notes!  
> Enjoy n lemme know what you guys think!!

Hank felt the anxiety attack bubbling up from his stomach, but he pushed it down. This couldn’t happen here. Barry was still inside the diner. What if he saw. What if he fucking saw. No, Hank had to get away; had to escape. He couldn’t have Barry see this. He wouldn’t allow it. Too much vulnerability for one day. Once again Hank found himself having taken this massive fucking risk. Revealing his deepest darkest secret, his truest self, to his best friend- or who he thought was his best friend- only to be met with hostility and rejection. Just like in Benoy, just like at home. He should know by now that he’s not allowed to live the life he so desperately craves. It’s just not safe. It’ll never be safe. 

The internalized homophobia that’s lived within him since he was a kid was something he had actually started dealing with since coming to LA. In secret of course. Stealing money for therapy sessions whenever he could and threatening the therapist whenever he couldn’t. But triggers? Triggers were a subject that had yet to be tackled. Hank had no idea how to gradually talk himself down from the proverbial ledge. 

He got into his car and drove to that park he had passed on the drive back into the city. Once in the safety of the empty enough parking lot, Hank finally succumbed to that storm cloud of terror that had been brewing inside of him for the better part of two hours. White knuckling the steering wheel, pain and fear coursed through him. His heart was racing as the flashbacks began. All-devouring. And he was consumed by the memories that usually only plagued his nightmares overtook him. 

\--

He’s sitting on the couch with his then-boyfriend Vakha. Vakha is reading a book, head resting in Hank’s lap. Hank is reading the paper and playing idly with Vakha’s hair with his free hand. They had just returned home from a walk in the park. 

It was a little tradition of theirs. Every Saturday they would go out to a café and go on a walk afterwards through the local park. They were always beyond careful while out in public so as not to draw attention to themselves; always kept distance between them, absolutely never held hands and definitely didn’t kiss. On the way home they would always double check to make sure they weren’t being followed or watched. When they were together in private, they always locked the front door and shut the blinds. It took months into their relationship before they were even comfortable showing one another affection in private. 

Today is a sunny and uncharacteristically warm day for March in Benoy, the small village Hank grew up and lives in. The two men feel refreshed and revived after today’s outing and had decided to spend the rest of the day at Hank’s just enjoying each other’s company. Maybe cook up some yokh and siskal with to-beram for dinner later, Vakha’s favorites. They’re discussing dinner plans when there’s a bang at the door. Vakha sits up. And then another one. Hank tenses. And another one. Then the door flies off its hinges, hitting the ground with a dull thud. 

_“Politsiya!”_

Three heavily armed policemen march inside. Two of the men grab Vakha. He kicks and screams and fight, desperate to free himself from their grasp. But to no avail. The cops drag him out of the apartment. He cries out desperately for Hank. 

_“Ya lyublyu tebya! Ya lyublyu tebya!”_

They were the last words Hank heard Vakha speak. He never saw his boyfriend again. 

The remaining cop approaches Hank, handcuffs at the ready. He fights but is soon overpowered before he’s tossed into the back of the police van like a sack of moldy potatoes. The drive lasts what feels like days. When the car finally stops at its destination, it’s dark out. The crisp chirping of crickets and occasional melancholy hoot of a nearby owl are the only sounds cutting through the silence of the night like a sharpened knife. Hank takes in the beautiful melody as best he can, knowing he’ll probably never hear it again. 

The cop pushes him, hard. _“Davaĭ.”_

They enter a building. It’s drafty and smells of mildew and rotting wood. Hank is shoved again, this time into a cramped jail cell, shitty even by Russian standards. The handcuffs are removed and the cop points to a small, uninviting bed haphazardly set in the corner of the room, _“spí.”_ With that he leaves Hank until morning. 

Curled up on the mattress with only a thin blanket to keep warm, Hank cries, sobs, silently. The night creeps by slowly, sleeplessly. Fear keeps Hank awake all night. The rumors he had heard of these places were true. A place where people are taken to and never return from. 

Hank has no comprehensive memories of the following days, only flashes. Flashes of beatings and pain and blood. Flashes of scratchy towels and boiling water and straining lungs. Flashes of cold metal and tight restraints and electricity. 

He barely remembers being brought home.  
\--

The flashback wracked through his mind and body. Hyperventilating. Shaking. Crying. He thought of Vakha. Not a day went by when Hank didn’t think about him. Sometimes he still saw him in his nightmares. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night screaming, drenched in sweat. The cops took Vakha three years ago but to Hank it felt like yesterday. It’ll always feel like yesterday. 

Hank couldn’t face the suffering Vakha endured before they killed him, and he didn’t know if he could face Barry the next time they saw each other. Barry had such a kind soul in spite of, well, everything. It baffled Hank that he could be homophobic like that. Logically, he knew he was safe. He knew that he wasn’t going to be arrested, beaten, and tortured in LA for simply loving another man. Hank knew that, in spite of his rather violent tendencies, Barry wouldn’t come after him or (physically) harm him in any way… But emotionally? Emotionally the link between homophobia and violence had been branded into Hank’s brain since he was a child. They were one in the same. 

He needed something to dig him out of this hole. Since he found himself at a local park because it wasn’t safe for him to return to the stash house to have this breakdown, Hank decided to go for a walk; wander around, watch the squirrels chase each other around, listen to the birds, enjoy the things he thought he was going to lose that day.

‘Could be grounding,’ he thought, ‘like old times.’ 

He did his best to pull himself together, blowing his nose and wiping his eyes. Before leaving the car, he took a big gulp from the water bottle he had brought to stay hydrated while Barry trained his men. Taking a deep breath, Hank stepped out into the world. He stayed in the park, wandering, for what felt like decades, enjoying watching the squirrels and birds. The occasional snake. And he was right. It calmed him; it _was_ grounding. 

After a few hours, Hank returned to the stash house only after he was confident that he was okay enough to plaster on a fake smile until he reached the privacy of his own bedroom. Devastated and beyond emotionally exhausted, the small man sunk into his duvet, thoughts coming in and out like a radio station with poor reception.

_‘Zavtra ya budu spravlyat’sya s Barry.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Politsiya- Police  
> Ya lyublyu tebya- I love you  
> Davaĭ- Let's go  
> Spí- Sleep  
> *Zavtra ya budu spravlyat’sya s Barry- Tomorrow I'll deal with Barry
> 
> *I intended for this to come across as if Hank was too Exhausted here to think in English. Dunno if it did so figured I'd clarify a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is HERE. sorry for the slight delay school ramped back up again and i am Swamped. 
> 
> Content warnings for this chapter include: some light internalized homophobia, mentions of domestic violence, choking (not in a sexy way, sorry), alcohol consumption, general feelings of guilt and shame (this is Barry after all). 
> 
> I implore you to read the first line of this chapter in your most dramatic Narrator Voice. hope y'all enjoy! and feel free to leave comments and/or kudos, as i gain more nutrition from them than from food. thank u for sticking with me on this journey (:

Hank did not deal with Barry tomorrow.

Or the day after. Or the day after that. It had been about a week since either man had tried to contact the other.

Hank made no attempt to contact Barry because, well, why would he? It was clear to Hank that Barry thought he was a broken man, a freak. They’d probably never be able to move past this or pretend it didn’t happen. There was no going back to normal. No more Team Badass. No more popping up unexpectedly at Barry’s work to surprise (and irritate) him. No more sending Barry memes in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. (Hank had had lots of fun sending Barry Russian memes. He had a _particularly_ fun time trying to explain _“как тебе такое, Илон Маск?”_ to Barry, who simply Did Not get it, despite Hank finding it hilarious beyond words.)

There had been time since his initial panic attack for Hank to sit back and think things over, and his options looked bleak. 

Option 1: Cut Barry out of his life entirely. Долг был уплачен, after all. There really was no (professional) need to associate with Barry anymore, so removing Barry from his life altogether would be simple, at least logistically.

Option 2: Try to work through it and patch things up. Maybe Hank could educate Barry; pull him up out of the narrow-minded hole the man lived in. Even if Barry didn’t or couldn’t love him in return, at least Hank would have rid the world of one more homophobe.

It hurt. Barry always brightened his day, grumpy though he was. But Hank had learned to love the grumpy, and, subsequently, learned to love the man buried underneath it all. It hurt to consider a life without Barry in it. And it hurt to consider putting so much time, energy, and effort into educating someone when the end result Hank hoped for was a pipe dream at best. He knew which decision was the best for him. He just needed to find the strength to commit to the decision.

As for Barry? Barry hadn’t had time to think about what happened with Hank. Mans fucked up. Again.

All he had to do was put his hand around her throat. Didn’t even have to squeeze. Shouldn’t have squeezed. But once again he was blindsided by the rage that churned and frothed in his belly.

Once again, his emotions got the better of him.

And he squeezed.

Sally dropped to the ground, coughing and wheezing. She looked up at Barry, a myriad of emotions flicking across her face as if it were a glitching slide projector. He didn’t realize what he’d done, not really, until Gene was rushing to the stage to Sally’s aid. Rushing to Sally’s aid because she hadn’t gotten up, hadn’t continued with the scene. Barry froze, finally snapping back to reality.

_Fuck._

His hand twitched. His heart sank. His stomach lurched.

**_Fuck._ **

“Sally, I- Sally, I’m sorry,” his voice was small, childlike, but the guilt and shame and self-hatred swelled in his chest until he found himself unable to breathe. “I’m sorry.”

\--

It was after this incident he left Gene’s acting class. For good. Like he meant to after the Shakespeare festival. There was no way he would ever be welcome back. Barry had done some horrific things in his day. But _this?_ Maybe Gene was right. Maybe the darkness _was_ inherent. It had been days since, but that moment haunted Barry every waking second. There was nothing he could do to shake himself out of the depression he was in. All he had the energy to do was order pizza from the same place down the street from his hotel (how could he stay in the apartment with Nick and Jerome after what he’d done?) every night and get drunk. Ridiculously drunk. High school student who threw a party while their parents were out of town drunk. Barry rarely _drank_. Sometimes he’d indulge in a drink or two at social events or the occasional family celebration, but he never drank. Decided to more or less stay away from alcohol, or at least getting wasted, at 16 when he witnessed his dad give his mom a fat lip and black eye after drinks with colleagues one night. Since then, he’d always associated alcohol and drunkenness with cruelty. He only ever saw his dad get violent when the man was plastered.

But here he was. 30 some years later, finding himself shitfaced for the third night in a row. The guilt was eating him alive and Barry genuinely didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this. Sally deserved so much better than him. He could never fully understand how he could possibly be worthy enough of being with someone as inspiring, strong, and beautiful (inside and out) as Sally. But it made sense to him now. He wasn’t. He wasn’t worthy. Maybe he never would be.

It wasn’t the first time in his life he found himself completely alone but _fuck_ if it didn’t hurt like it was. Couldn’t talk to Fuches ever since the bitch decided rat him out to the cops. Couldn’t talk to Gene, for obvious reasons. Couldn’t talk to Hank, considering the last time they saw each other ended with…

But Hank was the best bet he had right now. At this rate Barry figured that he’d be able to handle however Hank felt about him after what happened. If Hank hated him now, whatever. He probably deserved it anyway. Whatever. Barry pulled out his phone and shot Hank a text.

 **10:14pm** _Hey man. Are you free right nwo? Can youc ome ove r? it's Barry. something bad happene d. And I need someone._  
**10:36pm** _Hank???_  
**10:36pm** _Hank ar eyou free??_  
**10:45pm** _Srory to bother you. I’m ok, you don’t have to worry abou tme, I understand if you don’t want to be around me or antyhigb like that. It seemed like I hurt your feelinsgs pretty bad las t time._

 **11:00pm** _Barry? Are you drunk!?_

 **11:03pm** _Mayeb a little bit ._

 **11:08pm** _Why? You can tell me._

 **11:26pm** _Barry? What happened?_

 **11:30pm** _Do you reallly think I’m not evil?_

 **11:33pm** _Barry, where are you? You’re worrying me._

**11:35pm Barry’s Location**

**11:36pm** _Drink some water. Will be over soon._

 **11:40pm** _Thnaks Hank._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sally i am SO sorry. the idea came from the first time i watched Barry when i was Terrified that Barry choked her for real. i really thought he did. sally u deserve better babe.
> 
> also definitely Don't listen to Bacalar by Dead Poet Society and think about Hank and Barry in this fic. (dont) do it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MrLkEdm5Jw
> 
> and for those maybe unfamiliar with the Russian how do you like that, Elon Musk meme, educate urselves it's a riot: https://www.rbth.com/science-and-tech/327604-how-do-you-like-it-elon-musk


End file.
